


Soulmate

by dsa_archivist, EA Karras (Anne)



Category: due South
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-02-14
Updated: 2000-02-14
Packaged: 2018-11-10 19:39:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11133396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne/pseuds/EA%20Karras
Summary: Ray battles Calhoun, Victoria and for Fraser.This story is a sequel toSuburban Legend.





	Soulmate

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).
    
    
    Title: "Soulmate"
    Author: EA Karras
    Series: The Mountie Slayer: Gehenna
    Disclaimers: Due South belongs to Alliance.
    
    ------
    
    "Why is everyone upset? I once knew but I forget.
    Something's happened, something strange. Something it appears has changed..."
    "Change", Oingo Boingo
    
    One month later...
    
    It had been a long, lazy Saturday morning all alone with Ray, some music,
    a pot of coffee, a dwindling box of Smarties, and no plans beyond dinner
    that evening.  Lucia was busy in the library, Jay was happily rebuilding
    the  transmission on Tony's car, Turnbull had taken Mina to a country
    western concert, and Dief had asked to spend the day with Ma Vecchio.
    The day was theirs. And because of the partial immunity to the sun that
    get possesed for a short time, they didn't have to worry about being
    interrupted should the morning become a bit more active for the two of
    them.  
    Fraser had taken what was for him a decadently long shower and was even
    now finishing up toilette with a shave.  He was almost done, carefully
    shaving off the last bit of stubble from his chin and neck, when he felt
    a small sting.	
    
    Finishing quickly, Fraser was wiping his face when he spotted the nick,
    a thin line of red against the white of his throat.  He made a face,
    annoyed at his own carelessness, and was about to wipe it away when the
    bathroom door was yanked open to reveal a wild-eyed Ray Kowalski.  Fraser
    blinked as Ray stepped closer, sniffing the air like a bloodhound  He
    was focused.  Intent.  
    On Fraser's throat. 
     
    He was drawn to the tiny cut on the Mountie's neck, fascinated.  His
    eyes held a strange light and in a thrilling rush, Fraser saw that Ray's
    eyes were almost blue again, almost close to normal.  He stared, not
    exactly sure how to gauge Ray's reaction and conduct.  He'd seen Ray
    fixated on things before, but this was just a tiny swell of blood.  
    He was startled when Ray kissed him, those long fingers tangling in Fraser's
    dark hair as he massaged the back of his head. He'd been kissed by Ray
    well and often, and while it was in no way unusual for the impulsive
    American to randomly pounce out of nowhere, this was exceptional.  
    Ray was all but devouring him. 
     
    Fraser rapidly discovered being devoured was a very good thing. 
     
    An appriciative moan escaped Fraser as those talented lips moved from
    lips to jaw to throat.  He was shocked when Ray suddenly licked at the
    trace of blood, taking it in with the last drop of shaving creme.  It
    didn't seem to bother the detective.  Nothing would at this point.  Except
    stopping.  
    "Ray..." 
     
    He felt Ray's breath on his skin and tried to get him to look up.  The
    American had his prize, though, and Fraser could not pry him away.  
    The steam from the shower was making him dizzy. 
     
    Or maybe that was Ray... 
     
    He was not prepared when ray bit him.  Hard, but not hard enough to draw
    blood. Just enough to keep the small nick flowing.  It really didn't
    cause any pain and the newness, the closeness and intimacy such an act
    ushered in was arousing unto itself and unlike any sensual contact they
    had ever shared.  
    Still. there was a definate risk and Fraser arched his body against Ray's,
    his fingers running through Ray's hair, trying to pull the detective
    back.  He stopped when he noticed Ray's hair was wet and...inky? And
    smelled kind of...what was the word Ray used often? Rank. Definetly rank.
    
    But those lips and those teeth banished all thought as he felt Ray drink
    from him, sucking at the small wound, his long body thrusting against
    Fraser's in time with the Mountie's pulse.  The Constable gasped and
    Ray  moaned. 
     
    "Ray.  Ray, don'..." 
     
    His eyelids fluttered as Ray continued to draw upon his throat.  It was
    so different from the last time that there was no comparison.  This was
    not frenzied or frantic.  This was slower. Gentle. Giving.  
    That first time had been lust. 
     
    Now it was love. 
     
    Actually, upon consideration and reflection, it felt good.  The sensation
    was dizzying, true, but it felt...nice.  Floaty.  It occuured to him
    that  Ray was not trying to hurt him.  He hadn't taken that much blood
    and the feel of his lips and teeth and tongue on his throat was positively
    stimulating.  Erotic, even.  
    "Oh...Ray...Ray...wai..." 
     
    He only then became aware they were half lying on the floor of the bathroom,
    Ray's lesser weight pinning him down.  A sudden coolness as Ray drew
    back, a strange movement and shift of weight and something warm and salty
    hit his lips.  Fraser groaned as Ray settled back into the bite and he
    tasted his lover's blood. So strange that this should be arousing.  A
    heady elixer that was such a part of Ray.  It tasted like Ray, strong
    and warm with an  odd tang.  Fraser knew he could so easily be intoxicated.
    
    Pressure built, pleasureful pain, and not only from the bite.  Why was
    this so arousing?  Opening his eyes drunkenly, he lifted a hand to Ray's
    wrist, not sure if he should go on or what to do about the shallow cut
    that seemed to call for his attention.  
    "Ray?" 
     
    A momentary relief as Ray smiled down at him, a warm light in those almost-black
    eyes.  "Just wanted ya to see how it feels fer me...s'okay if you don't
    take too much."  
    It was...it was an experience unparalelled.  This was Ray, all of him,
    body and heart and soul, gladly, freely offered to Fraser.  This was
    what drinking his blood felt for Ray?   It was...increadable.  Small
    wonder he was so eager. 
    
    "You, too," he breathed as he pulled Ray back down and felt the bite
    continue.  Ray groaned as Fraser bit down on the wound he'd made in his
    own wrist. Briefly, very briefly, he wondered about the wet, black ink
    on his  shirt. 
     
    Very briefly. 
     
    Maybe Ma Vecchio would keep Dief on Sunday, too. 
    
    Ray was beginning to get a little friendlier than simple bloodletting,
    when a loud rining pierced the silence of the bathroom. The oven timer?
    He heard Ray swear against his neck. "Shit..." 
    
    "mm...cooking?" Fraser's voice was slurred, drunk with passion.
    
    "Well...I was..." Ray grinned at his dazed and happy lover, nipping gently.
    "Screw it. I can deal with itching..." 
    
    ***
    
    Ray woke up half sprawled on Fraser's body, his hair itching like crazy.
    It took him nearly a minute to remember why they were on the floor and
    when he did he grinned. 
    
    Fraser was down for the count, and it took Ray an agonizingly long time
    to get him to their bed. He scratched at his hair, annoyed and frustrated
    and hoping Fraser would wake up sooner rather than later. 
    
    He made his way towards the kitchen sink on shaky legs, determined to
    stop the itching now so he could concentrate on his mountie later. 
    
    The water turned dark beneath his massaging fingers and a few minutes
    later he groped for a towel, noticing a small sound from the bedroom.
    
    Fraser woke up in bed. Ray must've dragged him in here after their escapade
    in the bathroom. He smiled, remembering and looked at his shirt. A large
    purple stain had spread over a quarter of it. "Ray?" 
    
    "What?" Ray's voice was muffled. The sound of someone towel drying his
    hair. 
    
    "My shirt's purple."
    
    Silence. "I'm sorry."
    
    "Did you spill grape juice on m..." Fraser's mouth dropped open when
    Ray entered the bathroom. He opened and closed it several times, barely
    making a sound. 
    
    "Careful, Frayze. You'll catch flies." Ray ran a hand self consciously
    over his head, sitting next to his lover. "What? What's wrong?" 
    
    "Your...hair." 
    
    "Yes?"
    
    Fraser wondered if he didn't notice. Or if he himself was seeing something.
    An affect of the blood loss. He closed his eyes and opened them. No.
    It had to be Ray. "Are you...mentally fractured in some manner, Ray?"
    
    Ray blinked with surprise. And amusement. "That's nice, Ben. Really."
    
    "Your hair."
    
    "Yeah. It was hurting."
    
    "So you....purple, Ray?"
    
    "Nightshade, actually. I haven't done the roots yet. They're gonna be
    red. Mountie Red." He grinned wider. "Are you ok? You look like you're
    gonna stroke out." 
    
    ***
    
    Turnbull stood at the desk across from Warfield, and  glared at the young
    vampire who had insulted him. A harsh, guttural word from the Prince
    made the man back down.  
    "Marco!  You shame your clan in this, our house!  The Constable is my
    guest."  
    Argued Marco, "He's a Slayer!" 
     
    "And you are a fool!" snapped Warfield.  "You do not think.  Henceforth,
    Marco, this man's life is your responsibility in my territory. If harm
    in any form befalls him, you will be to blame.  The Slayers in this city
    are sacrosanct, just as the Knights are."  
    Marco retreated with an unhappy growl leaving Turnbull with the Prince
    and Zuko.  
    "What brings you to my house, Seeker?" asked Warfield, waving Turnbull
    towards a chair at the table beside him.  
    "I came to warn you." 
     
    "Warn me?  Isn't it your role to eliminate my kind, Renfield?" 
     
    "My role is to find a peaceful balance.  There can't be one until Lilith
    is stopped from this rampage."  
    "Rampage?" echoed Zuko.  "She's been mighty quiet for a rampage."  
    
    "Last month was nothing.  She just wanted to get to Elder Kowalski."
    
    "I take it she did." 
     
    "Indeed.  Kowalski drained her, almost."  Turnbull clasped his hands
    on the polished mahogany table before him.  "The transfer of blood was
    too much for a ghoulite and he vomited up her blood-"  
    "Such a pity," murmured Warfield. And it was. Lilith's power in a ghoulite...it
    was unheard of. It might have been interesting.  
    "It made him very sick for a long time.  We later found out, though,
    that she deliberately let him drain her so that some of her power would
    overtake Ray.  He's been acting strangely lately and I can see her influence
    in him. I'm afraid of what will happen to him when she calls again. 
    He may be helpless to resist her."  
    "Dark hair and dark eyes," said Zuko knowingly. 
     
    "Is /that/ why you've been asking him to dye his hair?" demanded Turnbull.
    
    Frank Zuko smiled.  "Partially.  We really /were/ allergic to the color,
    though."  
    "So was he, apparently."
    
    "So what is your warning?" Prince Warfield asked mildly. 
     
    "Lilith is not dead and it's her intent to kill Caine. She's going to
    use  Ray as a cover and as a pawn.  He has some of her power in him now
    and he  doesn't understand it. He barely /knows/ it."  Turnbull and Frobisher
    had not thought it prudent to tell him just yet.  
    "What do you want us to do, Seeker Turnbull?" Zuko shot back. 
     
    "I want you to alert Caine." 
     
    "Consider it done," said Warfield before Zuko could speak. 
     
    "I also want to ask you a question." 
     
    "Ask.  For the sake of the House of Rachel, if I can answer, I will."
    
    "Do you know of any possible way to save Ray Kowalski's life?" 
     
    The ancient eyes bored into Turnbull's.  He stared back unflinchingly.
    
    "I may." 
     
    As the Slayer was escorted out by Marco, Zuko turned to his Prince. 
    "Do you think it will work?" he asked with wry admiration for the audacious
    plan.  
    "It may.  Not many other things will at this point.  That is why I'm
    entrusting the job to you." 
     
    "Me?" 
     
    "Elder Kowalski was made your responsibility, Franco.  He needs help
    now, he just doesn't know it."  
    "He's dangerous." 
     
    "Perhaps, but he's an innocent and an Elder and he has great capacity
    for good.  He is a powerful ally, especially with the Slayer and the
    Seeker at his side."  
    "You like him." 
     
    "More than his Mountie.  He takes his role as Elder far more seriously
    than I expected." Warfield cast a look at Zuko. "He must not know it
    is you."  
    "He won't." 
     
    "Then I am satisfied." 
     
    ***
     
    One week later...
    
    His shift was over, it was a Friday, Fraser was working late at a Consolate
    function but would be home by nine - life was good.  Ray Kowalski stretched
    at his desk.  He'd actually made a dent in his paperwork. There'd been
    a lot of it, he'd been gone nearly a month. He'd have to stop doing that.
    
    Another day like this and there might even be a light at the end of the
    tunnel.  
    Lt. Welsh stalked by.  "Kowalski!" 
     
    "Yes, sir?" 
     
    "Your hair is purple." 
     
    "Yes, sir." 
     
    "Does that strike you as particularly professional for a police detective?"
    
    "My hair hurt, sir." He was very glad the lieutenant hadn't seen the
    red.  
    "You ain't kidding.  Dye it black, for god's sake, will you?" 
     
    "I tried, Lieu.  This is what happened." 
     
    "Try, try again, Kowalski.  This weekend." 
     
    "Got it, Lieu."  He smiled as Welsh returned to his office.  All day
    he'd  been telling everyone he'd tried to go black and failed.  Truthfully,
    though, he'd gone right for the purple.  It had been worth it for the
    look on Fraser's face. It had taken Fraser nearly a day to recover from
    the shock.  
    "Hey, Frannie!" 
     
    "No, Ray." 
     
    "Won't even let your former older brother take you out for dinner?" 
    
    "You still eat?" 
     
    "Thanks, Frannie, I can just feel the waves of love.  Yeah, I eat.  Do
    you want to?"  
    "Let me get this info to Rosetti and you can take me to the Symphony
    Caf."  
    "Deal." 
     
    An hour and a half later, he was dropping Francesca at the Vecchio house
    and upsetting Ma.  It wasn't the hair, she barely commented on it (though
    she thought it was a nice shade of purple), no, she was horrified by
    how thin Ray had gotten since the last time she'd seen him.  The end
    result of her reaction was that Ray Vecchio got a smack for not telling
    her and Francesca was sent to make coffee and Rosa Vecchio forced dessert
    on her auxiliary son.  He didn't mind.  It was nice to have a family,
    even if they weren't his. 
    
    His family, when they'd found out about his ghoulitism and being elder
    had practically shunned him. He'd spent weeks in a funk over that. Snapping
    at everyone, even Fraser.  
    It was eight when he left the Vecchio's and headed home.  All in all,
    an excellent day with the promise of turning into an excellent weekend.
    He parked the GTO with his usual care and as he got to the car, he knew
    there was someone nearby.  Someone undead.  Damn.  He scanned the area.
    Not one of the McGets.  Maybe they were having a party.  Doubtful...
    
    "Elder." 
     
    He whirled at the soft voice.  Not one of his. Shit. 
     
    The blow came from behind, slamming him to the ground between the parked
    cars, the Riv and the GTO.  Ray struggled to get his legs beneath him
    when he was hit again.   
    Hard.  For a moment, he saw a brightness in his mind that had nothing
    to do with his vision.  Then there was blackness.  
    *** 
    
    Tony lowered his newspaper, momentarily as he heard a sickening thump.
    He briefly pondered going out to see what it was, but heard the GTO start
    up and shook his head. Better to wait. 
    
    Besides, the commercials were over.
     
    ***
    
    Blinding light. 
     
    He couldn't open his eyes.  Not even a crack.  Whomever had nailed him
    had nailed him good.  He was flat on his back on something cold and hard
    and damp in someplace that smelled of dust and sewage.  He was restrained,
    too. Prone eagle with cuffs on his wrists and what felt like rope on
    his legs 
    
    How Hollywood. No need to blindfold him.  He'd forced his eyes open earlier
    and it was simply too bright for him to see anything without his glasses.
    
    His head hurt like hell, as much from getting hit as from the  
    migraine-inducing light.  How long had he been unconscious?   What the
    hell did whoever do this want and why?  
    "Hey!" he called, determined to get results.  If only to drive them nuts.
    Maybe get rid of this sun lamp that was going to fry him to a Polish
    fritter.  "Hey!"  
    Silence.  No street sounds, nothing.  Just him breathing and occasionally
    cursing and struggling against the cuffs.  He hated this.  He hadn't
    been too badly hurt - well, okay, he was hurt, but he'd been hurt worse
    than this in the past - but where the hell were they?  Was it Saturday?
    Fraser would be going nuts trying to find him.  Was it even past nine
    and did Fraser even realize he'd been kidnapped?  Where would he look?
    He'd be stuck at the  Consulate because Ray was supposed to go pick him
    up when he called...He had a sudden mental image of Fraser anxiously
    calling the apartment and growing more worried with each passing moment.
    Oh, god, Fraser... 
     
    A whisper of a sound.  Ray froze, straining his ears to catch the direction.
    
    Another. 
     
    Another. 
     
    At least three of them.  Vampires.  Were they Gangrel? Back for some
    weird revenge? No. They wouldn't. Calhoun had been cast out, Lilith's
    judgement. Warfield had said /he/ was Gangrel Elder and as such they
    couldn't hurt him.  
    Hell...
     
    Was that another one? 
     
    Suddenly the mental image of another letting raced through his mind like
    a runaway train - there was no stopping or turning it aside.  
    /Oh, my god!  No!  NO!/ 
     
    Panic gripped Ray Kowalski.  Sheer terror such as he had never before
    felt. He struggled wildly, felt the cuffs cut into his wrists as a scream
    rose from his throat.  
    "No!  NO!  Keep away from me!  NO!" 
     
    Still no sound but him; powerful hands grasped him.  He was held down
    bodily, crushing grips on his arms and legs.  
    "NOOOOOO!" He was practically shrieking with terror. Not again. Not /again/.
    Where was Fraser's dad? He'd know what to do.  
    A savage blow across the face almost knocked Ray out again and he reeled
    from the pain and shock.  He remembered Calhoun, those vicious assaults
    upon body and mind that had almost killed him.  Oh, god, would Fraser
    find him dead?  Worse yet, undead? He wasn't ready for that.  
    Someone else was there, moving carefully so that his body never blocked
    the light. He felt a touch on his bleeding wrists, but the person resisted
    any temptation to drain him that way.  Ray writhed, the ropes pulling
    tighter on his legs.  Oh, god, get him out of here...He strained desperately,
    tthrowing his head back and arching his back.  For one dizzying moment
    he caught a glimpse of a skylight far overhead and he saw...blue sky.
    
    God, it was /day/ how could they be out?  
     
    Suddenly his lips were forced apart and he tasted the salty tang of blood
    in his mouth.  What were they doing?  He struggled, but the man seized
    him by the hair and smacked his head on the floor hard enough to make
    him groan.  
    Something was forced into his mouth again.  A wrist?  A wrist torn open
    to allow blood to flow freely.  It filled Ray's mouth, wedged his jaws
    open so far he couldn't even bite.  Could barely even breathe.  
    Abruptly, he didn't mind. 
     
    A warmth flowed through him, filling him.  He choked on the first mouthful
    of blood, unable to refuse and live.  The second mouthful he swallowed,
    the third he eagerly sucked from the open wound when the wrist was yanked
    away again. He coughed, suddenly realizing what he had done.  God, he
    could have drunk form something as poisonous as Lilith...  
    Coming to himself once more, he tried to resume his struggles.	If he
    could only vomit, as he had done with Victoria...  
    Without any warning, darkness returned and he was suddenly free.  He
    was soon to find this was by no means a good thing as large hands hauled
    him upright.  The first blow landed in his stomach, doubling him over
    with a bark of pain.  Another shot to the head, then to the ribs, and
    then he lost track as he was thoroughly and ruthlessly beaten to unconsciousness.
    
    ***** 
     
    It was cold again.  Damp again, too, from the rain.  Rain?  It wasn't
    supposed to rain until late Sunday.  Had he been lying here through the
    night?  Ray Kowalski tried to open his eyes and was marginally successful.
    He was staring at something gray and dirty.  A cement wall.  
    Slowly, his ribs screaming, his back aching, his whole entire body  protesting,
    he raised his head.  He was in an alley way in god only knew what side
    of town.  He struggled to turn his head, his nose picking up some smells
    only Fraser could appreciate.  
    Fraser! 
     
    With an inarticulate cry he tried to stand.  The sun was barely peeking
    over the buildings but it was still too bright for him and he knew he
    had to find help /now/.  He needed to find Fraser. Let him know he was
    alive.  
    His legs were fainting under him as he staggered to the end of the alley
    and onto the sidewalk.  A few people were waiting by a bus stop, among
    them a cop with a cup of steaming coffee in her hands as she chatted
    with a construction worker.  A man in a suit tapped on her shoulder and
    pointed at Ray where he leaned against a wall and the officer hurried
    over.  
    "Sir?  Sir, are you all right? Do you need help?" 
     
    He fumbled for his ID, keeping his eyes squeezed shut. "I'm a cop.  Got
    beat down.  Where am I?"  
    She steadied him with one hand on his shoulder.  "You need an ambulance."
    
    "Where am I?" demanded Ray in a mumble. 
     
    "Houston West." 
     
    Not far from the Consulate.  Too far for him to walk on his own.  
    
    "I need to get to the Canadian Consolate.  You know where it is?" he
    asked, pulling out his wallet and handing it to her.  
    "Yeah, a few blocks over." 
     
    "Get me there." 
     
    "You Kowalski? There's been an APB out on you since midnight on Friday!"
    
    "Consolate.  Now."
    
    ***
    
    Fraser gingerly examined the bruises on his lover's body, trying very
    hard not to aggravate them. "Nothing looks broken. You're sure they were
    vampires...?" He was angry. Angry that this had happened again, that
    Tony had heard /something/ but had not investigated. Angry that he hadn't
    been there. 
    
    "We know our own.." Ray whispered, gasping in pain. Turnbull hovered,
    not quite as concerned as he should be. "God...it was day..." 
    
    "Day walkers." Turnbull nodded.  Day Walkers, vampires who had immunities
    to the sun, usually stayed in sunny places. But maybe Warfield had some
    stocked up. It had been difficult for him to get blitheringly hysterical
    as everyone expected from Constable Turnbull. He hadn't expected Zuko
    to hold Ray for so long and he wished the Elder hadn't let his men beat
    Ray so thoroughly, but appearances must be maintained. 
    
     It had been difficult for Fraser and the men and women of the 27th.
    The Constable was as close to a calm hysteria as Turnbull or Vecchio
    had ever seen him.  He had deliberately come to work an hour early, ostentatiously
    to vacuum, but in truth he was waiting for Ray.  Zuko had promised to
    leave him someplace close to help.  
    Welsh arrived at the consolate, bringing Diefenbaker with him.	The  werechild
    ran straight for Ray and climbed into his lap, never holding still long
    enough for Ray to actually pet him, just sniffing and checking his other
    human to his own satisfaction.  
    "Calm down, Dief," ordered Fraser. 
     
    Welsh watched from the doorway. "How is he?" His arms were crossed, leaning
    back against the door. There were dark circles under his eyes. He'd been
    up the whole weekend, aiding in the search and his relief at finding
    Kowalski whole and relatively well was evident in his fond gaze.  
    "Sore," volunteered Kowalski. 
     
    "I believe he has a mild concussion," Fraser answered briskly.	"He  sustained
    at least three blows to the head." 
     
    "Probably because of that hair.  And don't tell me that's natural." A
    brief pause. "Are those red streaks?"  
    Ray chuckled and instantly regretted it. 
     
    "Hospital.  Now." 
     
    "Lieu - " 
     
    "Now, Kowalski." 
    
    ***
    
    Fraser had been right about the concussion. The hospital had wanted to
    keep him overnight for observation. He'd said 'uh uh, no way' and had
    checked out AMA. 
    
    He lay next to Fraser, the mountie's arms around him loosely. His eyes
    were drooping closed. The pain killers the hospital had given him were
    working quick. "Ray?" Fraser whispered, running his fingers through the
    dyed hair. It was softer. Henna dye, maybe? 
    
    "Umm?" Ray could barely keep his eyes open. His jaw wouldn't close all
    the way. 
    
    "Did they do anything else? He traced the tattoo, planted a kiss on Ray's
    forhead. "There aren't any bites." 
    
    "No," Ray lied. "Just the beat down..." He curled into Fraser, settling
    his head on the Mountie's shoulder. "'night..." 
    
    "Good night..." Fraser knew Ray wasn't being truthful. He wondered exactly
    what had happened.  It was evident there was more to this than what he
    was saying.  Still, Ray could not be pushed into things of this nature.
    Fraser knew eventually the truth will out.  All he had to do was wait.
    
    Still,  something was bothering him.  He wasn't quite sure why, but Ray
    seemed too calm for a victim of kidnapping, too unconcerned.  Especially
    a kidnapping by vampires.  Somehow, this attack almost seemed to have
    benefited him if  you looked past the bruises and the concussion.  Fraser
    didn't understand.  
    Perhaps Turnbull could help.
    
    ***
    
    Vecchio stared at Stella across the dinner table. "They found Stan."
    He felt a creep of annoyance at the barely registered recognition. "Vampires."
    
    "Again?" She smirked. "He's practically a magnent this year." Her vengence
    demon ires were up. She /hated/ discussing her ex husband. She far preferred
    to publicly humiliate him. 
    
    "Yeah. I guess."
    
    "How many times does that make?" She quipped. "Three? Seven? Fifty?"
    
    He shrugged, trying to ignore her. When she got on a tangent like this...best
    just to say, he felt for Stan. 
    
    ***
    
    Fraser opened the door to his office, slowly. He could hear Turnbull
    speaking on the phone in hushed tones. "Thank you, Prince Warfield...yes,
    he does seem to be better. For now..." 
    
    Fraser paused, his heart humping hard. This couldn't mean what it sounded
    like. No way. 
    
    "Have you contacted Caine?"
    
    His knees actually felt weak for a moment as the implications hit him.
    What  was Turnbull doing?  
    "Yes. Yes. Understood. Thank you." 
     
    The brief conversation was over.  In an uncharacteristic display of emotion,
    Turnbull let out a long sigh and lowered his head.  He seemed...relieved.
    Grateful.  He took another long, deep breath to compose himself, then
    then he returned to work with his usual misguided energy.  
    Fraser blinked, feeling betrayed, and in that instant, Inspector Thatcher
    walked through the front door. She immediately spotted Fraser where he
    stood in the door to his office and  barked, "Constable!"  
    Fraser actually jumped, caught with a shocked expression on his face.
    Turnbull whirled, catching the look his friend and superior wore and
    a wave of guilt came crashing down upon him.  
    Fraser had heard.  He'd heard, misunderstood, and now felt betrayed.
    
    "S-sir," Fraser managed to respond. 
     
    The Inspector's eyes narrowed. "I need you to take some diction."  
    
    "Yes, sir.  Right away." 
     
    He didn't glance in Turnbull's direction as he followed Thatcher into
    her office. 
    
    ***
    
    He looked in the mirror over the sink and sighed. He felt fine. He was
    fine. Everything was fine. He closed his eyes, not really believing that.His
    Mountie hadn't said anything, but he knew Fraser was freaked because
    Ray wasn't freaked by the attack.  Yesterday at the hospital he'd been
    calm as he gave his statement to the investigating officers.  Not all
    of it was untrue.  He remembered nothing beyond the actual assault. 
    No sounds, no sight of the vampires, only being beaten to a pulp and
    being force-fed blood.  And now he had a totally upset Benton Fraser
    on his hands.  He wished Fraser's shift would get over soon, he needed
    to tell him everything that happened.  Fraser knew he was holding back.
    
    The phone rang, and Ray picked it up. "Kowalski." 
    
    Silence. Heavy breathing. Great. One of those calls. Then: "Elder...."
    The voice was hoarse. Harsh. But he recognised it. 
    
    "Calhoun?" He ran his hands through his hair. He didn't like the guy,
    but he had saved his life once. "What's up?" 
    
    "You're in danger, Elder..." A half hysterical laugh. Calhoun sounded
    drunk. "Your son's in danger. Fraser...he's not in danger..."  
    "What're you talking about?" 
    
    "Beware the Gangrel Antitribu." A click. Ray stared at the phone, confused.
    Daywalkers, Gangrel with funny names, unhinged undead. What the hell
    was going on?  He dialed the consulate. 
    
    "Canadian Consulate, Constable Benton Fra..." 
    
    "Hey, Ben. Can you put Turnbull on?" 
    Silence. Fraser sounded uncomfortable. "He's....busy." He was lying.
    "What do you need, Ray?  Is everything alright?" 
    
    "Calhoun just called me. Said something about a Gangrel Anti-Trick, or
    something. Know anything about that?" 
    
    "No, I...it doesn't sound familiar." 
    
    "So put Turnbull on." Ray frowned at the silence. "Ben. Fraser, what's
    wrong?"  
    "Nothing, Ray." He could almost hear Fraser rubbing his forhead. "Hold
    on."  
    A few moments, then Turnbull picked up the line.  "Constable Renfi-"
    
    "Turnbull, it's me.  Lissen, Calhoun just hung up on me." 
     
    "Calhoun?!?" 
     
    "Yeah.	What's the big deal?  Calhoun. Anyway, he said I'm in danger,
    Dief's in danger, but Fraser's not and then he said something about Gangrel
    anti-ticks or anti-tribes or something nutso.  Should I care?"  
    "Get out of there now! Get Diefenbaker and leave immediately! Take your
    gun, Ray, and get out now!"  
    "Why?  What the hell's wrong?" 
     
    "Calhoun is autarkis!  He has no clan anymore! Lilith cast him out! 
    He's on a blood hunt!"  
    "Shit!" 
     
    "Don't use the main door!  Don't take your car!  Run!" 
     
    "Christ!" 
     
    He dropped the phone and ran. 
    
    Kowalski snatched up his holster from the cabinet by his bed and shrugged
    into it, snatching up his jacket as he screamed for the werewolf. Grabbing
    Dief on his way through the kitchen, he ran towards the fire escape.
    
    Together, he and Dief pulled at the window. Someone had nailed it shut.
    "Shit!" He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket, dialing and running
    with the wolfkid at the same time. 
    
    "Can..." 
    
    "He's nailed the fire-escape shut! Whadda I do?" 
    
    "You'll have to go out the main door...be quick. Run very fast." 
    
    "He'll catch me..." Ray was running down the stairs, gripping the wolf's
    hand hard. 
    
    "Not if you're fast enough. You can be, you have her blood." 
    
    *** 
    
    He came out of his office the moment he heard the alarm in Turnbull's
    voice.  What was he telling Ray?  To get out of the apartment?  Why?
    Fraser stared at the frantic Turnbull, not sure what to think. "What
    are you telling him? What's he saying?"  
    There was no denying the fear in the younger man's eyes as he looked
    at Fraser.  "Calhoun's after him, sir.  It's a blood hunt." 
    
    "Did you send him?" 
    
    "What?" Turnbull gave his superior an odd look. "Ray, where are you?"
    
    *** 
    "Out the door. He's not here. Where now?" Ray was breathing hard, his
    heart pounding in his chest, too frightened to think. 
    
    "Consulate. If Constable Fraser's not in danger..." 
    
    "Right!  I'll get there when I get there.  Tell Fraser!" 
     
    He hung up and shoved the phone in his pocket. His head was pounding
    and he was so dizzy he thought he would vomit on the spot.  It was close
    to lunch time.  The streets were fairly busy.  Good.  Cover.  They would
    stick to the crowds.  
    "Pitter patter, Dief," he said, clutching the boy's small hand.  They
    set  out at a trot, all that Ray thought he could manage at the moment.
    
    *** 
     
    "Turnbull, what exactly is going on here?  Did I or did I not overhear
    you conspiring with Prince Warfield not an hour ago?  What do you know
    about Ray's kidnapping?  Is he in danger?  Answer me, damnit!"  
    The younger man gazed up at Fraser, desperate for him to understand.
    
    "Sir, may we speak someplace more private?" 
     
    "My office, Constable Turnbull.  Now." 
     
    **** 
     
    Closer.  He could feel them homing in on him.  How many?  Calhoun was
    one. 
       
    What the hell had happened with him?  Autarkis?  What hadn't Fraser told
    him?  Another blood hunt?  
    Guess he owed it to his Mountie to tell him all. 
     
    If he lived that long. 
     
    What had Turnbull called them? Daywalkers?  What did that make the rest
    of vampire kind - nightcrawlers?  How many?  How many?  Should he call
    for a car?  Naa.  Last time some Assassins had shot up the Riv and Ray
    at the same time.  
    "Stick close, Dief.  We gotta cross this street.  They're close.  Damned
    close." 
    
    A car screetched to a halt in front of him and he nearly fell over with
    the effort not to run into it. "Watch it!" He screamed at the driver.
    Then nearly fell over again when he saw who it was. "Zuko?" 
    
    "Get in!" Zuko shoved open the passenger side door. Ray could feel Calhoun
    getting closer and didn't hesitate a second. He jumped in, pulling Dief
    with him. "I'm taking you to the council. You'll be safe there." 
    
    "I have to call Fras..."
    
    "You bring the Slayer into this, and Calhoun /will/ kill him. No matter
    what he said. You're too important to him not to." He shifted gears.
    And a bandage on his wrist showed. 
    
    Ray saw it before the Giovanni elder could hide it. "You." He leaned
    forward, sniffing deep. "It was you..." 
    
    ***
    
    Vecchio picked up his cellphone, looking at Stella with contempt.  Another
    lunch date ruined. He wished he'd never mentioned finding Kowalski. She
    just hadn't shut up about how horrible she thought he was since. God
    only knew what she'd do if she knew what he was. 
    
    "Vecchio." 
    
    "Ray." Fraser. He sounded distressed, like he'd found out some horrible
    news. Oh God. That could only mean one thing. 
    
    "Fraser, is Stan all right?"
    
    "Calhoun."
    
    "He's back?"
    
    "He's called a bloodhunt. The Sabbat. They're after Ray." A pause. "He
    was running, on his way here from home. With Dief..." 
    
    "They haven't shown up?"
    
    "No."
    
    "When?"
    
    "An hour ago."
    
    Vecchio glared at Stella as she tried to get his attention. He poured
    a cup of her special brew coffee and winced as it went down. Stuff tasted
    worse than the squadroom sludge. "You called the cops?" 
    
    "No. I called you. I thought maybe he took a detour, tried to throw them
    off." Something else was wrong. Vecchio could tell. That sort of strained
    tone was in Fraser's voice. 
    
    "Benny? What is it? Is there something else?"
    
    A pause. A long one. "Just...come to the consulate, please."
    
    "On my way. You need anything?"
    
    A snort. "Like what?"
    
    "Anything. Coffee?"
    
    "We have coffee here, Ray..."
    
    "Not this coffee...."
    
    "That'd be great. Thanks..."
    
    He looked up to see Stella glaring at him across the table.  Wiping his
    mouth, he threw down his napkin and rose, kissing her on the cheek and
    ignoring the steely look.  
    "I have to go. There's trouble and Ray may be hurt." 
     
    "I thought he was hurt already." 
     
    "Alright.  Ray may be more hurt.  I'll be with Benny at the Consulate
    if you need me.  Love you."  
    "Hmph." 
     
    *** 
     
    Benton Fraser sat in his office and held his aching head.  A blood hunt.
    Another blood hunt.  The last had almost killed Ray.  He remembered finding
    the detective in the abandoned building, his skin whiter than snow and
    his body so cold to the touch that Fraser thought he would never be warm
    again. Never before in his life had he been so frightened as when he
    lifted Ray into his arms that day.  He'd thought his lover was dead.
    And now Calhoun was after him again...  
    "Sir?" 
     
    Turnbull handed him a glass of water and he forced a sip down his throat.
    It almost gagged him.  
    "Why didn't you tell me?" Fraser finally managed. 
     
    "I didn't know it was Calhoun until Ray called.  When he attacked Detective
    Vecchio in the pass I didn't know about Lilith's order not to kill any
    humans.  When Lord Aja said Lilith had cast out a Gangrel I still didn't
    suspect Calhoun.  He was loyal.  Ambitious, but loyal and he did protect
    me and save Detective Kowalski."  
    "And Dief?" 
     
    "He has Ellery's blood.  Ray is the more desireable of the two, but no
    Sabbat would pass up the chance to drink an elder's blood."  
    Fraser considered and had he not been so completely frightened for his
    lover and his werewolf friend, he would have blushed.  He could understand
    that viewpoint.  
    "Warfield?  What do you have to do with Ray's kidnapping?  You arranged
    it, didn't you?  /Why?/  You saw how Warfield's men beat him!"  
    "His body will heal, Constable.  I'm trying to save his life." 
     
    "I don't understand." 
     
    "Victoria allowed him to drain her.  Ray has more power than he understands
    right now.  She is turning him into her host, a being of pure Gangrel
    stock that will equal her in power and stand with her against Caine."
    
    Fraser could not find any words to answer.  The Seeker hurried on.  
    
    "Warfield, all the Caanites, cannot allow their sire to be destroyed.
    At my request and in concord with Prince Warfield, we have...corrupted
    Ray.  That kidnapping was souly to get him to ingest Caanite blood so
    now he'll have as much of Caine in him as Lilith and hopefully that will
    spare his life when Gehenna comes."  
    "He's...not an ancient.  Not like Aja." 
     
    "But Lilith's blood in him is."  
    
    ***
    
    Ray sniffed Zuko once more, and glared at the annoyed look the giovanni
    elder gave him. "Get yer nose outta my face, Kowalski." Zuko may have
    to watch the ghoulite, but he didn't have to like it. Right now he was
    more than willing to throw the guy to the Antitribu. Sabbat or not. 
    
    "It /was/ you." Ray accused, holding onto Dief and the door as Zuko drove
    like a maniac. "Why?" And why could smell it? That was weird. That was
    so...Fraser.  
    Zuko gave him another look. "Warfield'll explain it to you. Right after
    he thanks you for fixing your hair." He gave a double take. "Purple?"
    
    "Let me out." 
     
    "Like hell." 
     
    "Pull. Over." Ray's voice was like ice. "Pull over now. I'm not going
    anywhere with..."  
    He heard Zuko's gun click. "You'd rather be out there with them? Fine.
    Get out."  
    *** 
     
    Fraser took the cup of coffee from Vecchio and thanked him. He took a
    sip and made a face. Vecchio looked a bit hurt. "What? Not good?"  
    "No...it's...It's just I was unaware you preferred the taste of boiled
    rats."  
    "It's not that bad, Benny." 
     
    "No. I didn't mean that as a figure of speech, Ray. Where did you get
    this?"  
    "Stella." Vecchio wondered if he was really green or he just felt it.
    
    "Ah." 
     
    "Don't tell me." 
     
    "It's just, Vengence Demons often..." 
     
    "Please, don't." 
     
    "Understood. 
    
    ***
    
    Ray stilled, knowing his options were limited. He knew when to back down
    and the time was now.  Zuko snickered to himself and slid the gun back
    into its holster at his side.  Ray swallowed, his head swimming as he
    asked, "So why'd ya help me?"  
    "Orders.  I'm your guardian angel, Kowalski." 
     
    "Since when?" he grumbled, shoving Dief over the seat into the back.
    
    Zuko kept his eyes on the road.  "Since you became elder." 
     
    "Should I thank you?" 
     
    "Just doing my job." 
     
    "Thank you."  He couldn't say why, but he knew he was safe with the Giovanni
    Elder. He figured Zuko didn't have much reason to eleminate him.  How
    much of a threat was he to anyone?  
    "So why'd ya beat me flat?" 
     
    "You were kidnapped.  It had to look like it was real." 
     
    Ray sighed, letting his head drop into the head rest behind him.  "Good
    job.   Your goons gave me a concussion."  
    "Actually, that was me." 
     
    For the sake of Dief and survival, he ignored the vampire. "I have to
    get word to Fraser."  
    "The Slayer is safe for now.  Leave him out of this." 
     
    "I have to let him know I'm safe." 
     
    "Are you?" taunted Zuko. 
     
    "You tell me." 
     
    "For now." 
     
    "That's supposed to be comforting?" 
     
    "No." Zuko grinned. "We're here." 
     
    *** 
     
    Vecchio picked up his cellphone. "Vecchio." 
     
    "Hey." 
     
    "Stan. Where are you?" He gripped his phone tight, looking at Fraser.
    The Mountie looked pale. "Where's Dief?"  
    "We're safe. We're ok." Ray wasn't very forthcoming with his location.
    He sounded uncomfortable.	 
    "Where? Where are you?"  
     
    Fraser stood up, "Let me talk to him." He took the phone from Vecchio,
    holding it shakily. He hadn't realised how scared he was. He'd almost
    lost him again. "Ray? What's going on?"  
    "Nothing, Ben. Nothing's going on. Me and Dief'll be home as soon as
    this is all straightened out."  
    "When?" 
     
    "I don't know. Soon, I hope." 
     
    Fraser felt a pang. He hadn't felt like this since Vecchio had gone undercover.
    No.God, no. "Ray, please. Where are you?" 
    
    "I'm safe, Benton.  We both are." 
     
    Fraser closed his eyes.  Ray called him Benton.  It was part warning
    and part of Ray's telling him he loved him.  
    "Ray," he almost stammered, desperate to keep him on the line, to hear
    his voice a bit longer.  "Turnbull's told me more.	About the kidnapping."
    
    "Yeah, I know.	Warfield ordered it.  I don't know why yet.  Benton, I
    gotta go.  Keep the McGets safe for me, will ya?"  
    "Ray..." 
     
    "'Bye, Benton." 
     
    He gripped the phone.  Never in his life had he felt so lost. 
     
    *** 
     
    Warfield sat in his usual chair at the head of the mahogany table and
    regarded the ghoulite using his phone. At least he had the sense to take
    his advice and keep the Slayer out of this.  He was a scrawny specimen
    and right now he was so pale it was hard to tell he wasn't undead.  
    "I see you colored your hair," Warfield stated as Kowalski hung up the
    phone. "Thank you.  I hate sneezing."  
    "You gonna tell me what the hell's going on?" 
     
    "Soon.	Would it suffice for now to tell you that you have valiant friends
    who would gladly risk your ire rather than let you be lost?"  
    "I dunno." 
     
    "You need to sleep, Kowalski.  Franco was excessive in his treatment,
    I'm afraid.  I have a room prepared for you and your..."  
    "Son." 
     
    "Son.  Come.  You can eat when you wake up.  Then We must talk." 
    
    *** 
     
    "Where would he have gone, Turnbull?" Vecchio demanded, staring the hapless
    mountie down. "His parents? Is he even in town?"  
    "I don't know. Did you try that star..." 
     
    "They blocked it. Where would he go?" 
     
    Turnbull shook his head. "I don't know." He truly didn't. "I'll call
    Warfield. Maybe he'll know."  
    "No." Fraser was staring out the window, rubbing his arms. He was very
    cold suddenly."No, he's safe."  
    "Benny..." 
     
    "He's safe. He would've said if he weren't." 
     
    *** 
     
    Calhoun stared at the consulate. His hair was mussed and covered in dirt.
    A grin was permanently plastered on his face. He hadn't fared well in
    the last month. His autarkis status had taken it's toll. He cursed softly.
    He'd grown soft compared to the vampires he lead.  He had been dependant
    upon a clan and he had paid the price.  
    He'd been ecstatic to be brought in by the Antitribu. They needed an
    elder. And they would fare well with Ellery's blood. They just needed
    to get it.   
    *** 
     
    Ray lay on the hard bed, staring at the ceiling. At least it wasn't a
    coffin. He didn't think he could take that. Dief was asleep next to him,
    and he mussed the wolf kid's hair gently. "We'll be ok..."  
    The wolf stirred in his sleep, whimpering. Ray nodded again. "Yeah. We'll
    be ok." 
    
    He pulled the blanket over his head and wrapped himself around the little
    boy that was so dear to him.  Sleep, the heavy listless sleep of the
    wounded, claimed him.  
    *** 
     
    "Prince Warfield?" 
     
    "Yes, Franco?" 
     
    "The Lord Aja has arrived." 
     
    "I will speak to him first.  Kowalski is more fragile than we allow for.
    Allow him to sleep himself out.  We must move slowly.  And we must prepare
    Lord Aja."  
    "I think Kowalski will awaken long before Lord Aja is ready, Prince."
    
    "You are an impudent son, Franco my boy.  I will accompany you to greet
    the lord."  
    ***
    
    Ray tried to open his eyes, but they felt weighed down. Someone was watching
    him, touching him. Gentle touches to his face. "Fra..." No. The hands
    were too rough. Diefenbaker? No. Too old. His tongue felt thick in his
    mouth. Something was wrong. Vision. Oh God, his head felt ready to explode.
    /Oh God, Fraser. Please come hold me.../ 
    
    His body shook, quaking in pain. He felt Dief pull back, whimpering as
    he woke up. Flashing images. Dief. Lilith/Victoria. Someone he didn't
    know. Vecchio. Fraser. Blood. Fraser. Screams. Fraser. Oh God. Fraser.
    
    In his pain, he realised the Elders had no idea about his flashes. This
    should be interesting. 
    
    "Ahh! God..." His head smacked the bedboard as the convulsions got worse.
    Dief whined, backing away. The room swam, images coming faster. Horrible
    images. Gardino's explosion. Great. Irene. Blood moons. Ellery. Victoria.
    Biting Fraser...oh. 
    
    Oh. God.
    
    Fraser...
    
    His breathing quickened, and he /really/ hoped no one was watching. 
    
    "Interesting..." a nonfamiliar voice said, quietly. He bit back a moan,
    barely noticing that his nose was bleeding. A moment of clarity in the
    rushing images...he leaned in to kiss the Mountie, soft, warm lips yielding
    to his, felt those big hands upon his skin trailing fire at their touch.
    He felt thick, silky hair beneath his fingers.  Oh, God, don't ever stop....
    
    Fraser lowering him to the bed, kissing, feeling, stroking with wanton
    posessiveness.	His weight, his warmth felt so good, so real, Ray arched
    himself closer to the image in his mind's eye. 
     
    "Mine," whispered Fraser, the love evident in his blue eyes.  "My Ray."
    
    Pain crashed down upon him again and he heard a voice screaming, screaming,
    screaming.  It was him.  Dief was howling in despair, a wolf once more.
    He wanted to hold the werewolf, ease this overwhelming terror, but he
    couldn't move.  He felt strong arms lift him carefully and hold him closely
    as his body convulsed.  
    A stick?  A rod?  A baton?  Swinging.  Striking white flesh.  Drawing
    blood.  Spattering on him.  He saw the blood run down to a red collar,
    saw a faint  bite mark above the collar.  Fraser.  Someone had Fraser.
    Was hurting him.   Beating him.  Pale dirty hands.  An insane smile.
    
    Calhoun. 
     
    "...no, no, no,no, nonononono! Fraser!"  He tried to scream.  His voice
    was  just a whisper.  He weakly clawed at the arm holding him, barely
    aware of  what he was doing, just desperate for some kind of action.
    "Fraser...frase..."  
    Aja sat on the bed in the darkened office, supporting the ghoulite prince
    even as he studied him.  A child.  Just a child.  Strange powers he 
    posessed, but a love as great as few men had been privleged to know.
    
    "Shh," he whispered, as much to his trembling charge as to the anxious
    werewolf.  He reached out and smoothed Diefenbaker's head and scratched
    behind his ears.  "He is my son, garou.  I would not hurt him."
    
    "Help him...god...please..." Ray gasped, trying to grip the arm that
    supported him. 
    
    "We will. Don't worry...." Aja smoothed back Ray's newly darkened hair.
    "Rest." 
    
    "I gotta..."
    
    "Rest. I have seen to the Slayer's safety."
    
    "Who are you..."
    
    "You'll know me soon. Rest."
    
    ***
    
    Fraser stepped out of the consulate, immiediately aware of the fact he
    was being pursued. He could smell it in the air. The rank smell of vampire
    sweat and Canadian dirt. Calhoun. 
    
    He walked faster, half running towards Ray's apartment. He questioned
    the wisdom of leaving on his own, but he hadn't been able to contact
    Mina or Jay to alert them to this new situation and when they weren't
    at their respective homes or work, they were normally at Ray's. 
      
    He's tried calling, but with Jay around that was useless.  They hurt
    his  ears so badly he wouldn't answer them at all and Fraser hesitated
    to leave a  message.  Ray had taken Turnbull to speak to Warfield, and
    Fraser knew his  presence would only serve to incense the vampire prince.
    
    He moved quickly towards Ray's apartment, sometimes running, until the
    sensation of being pursued faded.  Still he hurried, anxious to get back
    before Ray and Turnbull, both of whom would frown on his stepping foot
    out  of the Consolate. 
     
    If Calhoun couldn't find Ray or Diefenbaker it was logical to assume
    he was  the next viable target. That was Fraser's guess anyway, either
    as bait or a  hostage. All he had to do was alert the McGets and get
    back to the  Consolate.  He would take a cab back.  Night was approaching.
    He ducked  into the apartment building, running up the stairs and into
    familiar  territory.  The safety of home. 
    
    A sabbat vampire was waiting for him in the apartment. Fraser froze dead
    in  his tracks, staring.  "No." 
    
    "Where is he, Constable?" Calhoun whispered, grinning quietly. 
    
    "I don't know." 
     
    He shoulder exploded in pain as the vampire hit him. "I can smell him
    on  you. You drank from him...." Calhoun pulled Fraser close, sniffing
    deep.  "Ellery. Kowalski...Lilith." 
     
    "No..." 
     
    Calhoun grinned. 
     
    *** 
     
    Ray's eyes opened wide. "I need to call him, I need to warn him..." He
    felt  hands on him, restraining him. "Please! I have to call..." 
     
    "How do you know it hasn't already happened?" Zuko demanded. "Lie still
    and rest!" 
     
    "Let me go!  I have to save him!  Calhoun's gonna try to kill him!" 
    
    He felt the old hand again and immediately calmed. "Childe. There's nothing
    you can do...." 
     
    "No." 
     
    Ray looked at him, grief and helplessness etched on every line of his
    face.  
    Warfield entered the office, dimming the lights more. "Lord Aja. We've
    received confirmation. The Slayer was taken.  My men were too late."
    
    "No..."  Aja sighed.  He was not angered.  Rather, he looked to Ray as
    Diefenbaker climbed into his lap and held him tight.  Then the detective's
    black eyes narrowed. 
     
    "How did /you/ know, Zuko?" 
     
    "Your flash hit me as hard as it hit you only I'm not recovering from
    pneumonia and a concussion.  My men were moving before the flash was
    done.  Calhoun must have moved just a minute or two after you felt it."
    Zuko grimaced, looking at Warfield to see if he would meet condemnation.
    The prince shook his head. There were bigger issues here and he certainly
    wasn't going to reprimand his best lieutenant in front of the lord and
    his  peer. 
     
    Ray closed his eyes, hoping beyond hope Zuko couldn't see him blushing
    scarlet.  That had been one of his more intimate flashes...not that he
    minded, but the undead population of Chicago really didn't need to see
    what  a naked Benton Fraser looked like from his point of view, thank
    you.  Dief  whined, sensing something amiss with his other human and
    curious.  
    "I have to go find him." 
     
    Warfield shook his head in admiration for this ghoulite's loyalty and
    perhaps his foolhardiness, too.  "Prince Kowalski, where would you look?"
    
    Ray was taken aback.  "Prince?" 
     
    "The Seeker didn't tell you?" 
     
    "Tell me what, Warfield?" 
     
    *** 
     
    "God damned traffic." 
     
    "Oh, Detective!  Language!" 
     
    "I hate rush hour."  Vecchio threw himself back into the seat of the
    Riv as they waited for their chance to inch up another foot or two. 
    "So, Turnbull, why do you need to talk to Warfield so much you left work
    early?"  
    He fidgeted with his Stetson and Vecchio was suddenly struck that while
    Fraser's Stetson was a sacred object for veneration, Turnbull's didn't
    make the grade. Then again, there /was/ Her Majesty's portrait to contend
    with...  
    "Beyond this whole situation, I need to ask him about an elder I met
    in  Canada.  I couldn't find any record or lineage for this man.  He
    did say we  would meet again, I just want to be ready for it when it
    happens."  
    "Did you believe Fraser about that boiled rats in the coffee thing? 
    I mean,  where would Stella get rats?" 
     
    "She might trap them.  She could possibly buy them." 
     
    "And boil them.  For my coffee." 
     
    "Did she extend the same affectionate gesture towards Detective Kowalski
    when they were married?" 
     
    "I don't know. No she probably spikes his Smarties." 
     
    "I believe the Constable." 
     
    "I could have lived without hearing that, Turnbull." Vecchio made a face.
    He felt...something in his teeth. No. Couldn't be. 
    
    "I'm sorry."
    
    "Yeah." Vecchio shook his head, pouring the rest of the coffee out the
    window. 
    
    :"If it means anything, Vengence Demons rarely feed an unloved one precious
    animal life." 
    
    "That's great. Thanks." He shook his head. "Remind me to pick her up
    a coral snake." 
    
    "All right."
    
    ***
    
    Ray rubbed his face, sitting up. "How can you be sure? Just because some
    legend says I'm a...a...a host?" He went on at Aja's nod, "Doesn't mean
    I..." He touched his forhead, closing his eyes tight. "Oh." 
    
    "Kowalski? What?" Zuko gripped his wrist, tight. "What's the matter?"
    
    "I don't...I dunno..." He flinched. 
    
    /Ray./
    
    Her voice. /Her/ fucking voice in his head. "No..."
    
    /Ray. It's time to come to me..../
    
    "No..."
    
    Diefenbaker growled, shifting into wolf mode again as he jumped to the
    ground. 
    
    Aja looked distressed. "It wasn't enough. He didn't take enough." 
    
    /Ra-ay.../
    
    Ray fell back, his eyes fluttering shut. He could see he on the steps
    of the 2th. . Gesturing at him. Calling for him.  Waiting for him. He
    felt a movement above him. 
    
    "Lord Aja, what..."
    
    "He'll have to take it from me. Hold him."
    
    ***
    
    Stella picked up her phone. "Kowalski speaking."
    
    "Mad...Ste...." the voice was hoarse. Pained. Afraid. "...Ray...." 
    
    "Who is this?"
    
    "Fr..."
    
    "Constable Fraser?" She raised an eyebrow. "Are you unwell?"
    
    "R...Ray?"
    
    "He's still looking for my ex husband." The disgust was evident. She
    raised an eyebrow again. "Constable, is something the matter?" 
    
    "Cal...talk..." 
    
    "Madame Kowalski?" Calhoun sounded completely insane.
    
    "Who is this?"
    
    "A friend of your husband's sire."
    
    She paused. "Excuse me?"
    
    "Aw....didn't he tell you? Too bad. You tell Elder Kowalski that if he's
    not at the zoo in three hours we'll take the blood from his mountie."
    
    "His mountie. What's going on? Who /is/ this?" Ray, she was sure, had
    done something completely stupid. Again. 
    
    Another laugh. "Guess."
    
    ***
    
    "Mr. Zuko?" 
     
    "Not now, Marco!" 
     
    "Mr. Zuko, the Seeker and Detective Vecchio are here. They're looking
    for you and Prince Warfield, sir."  
    Zuko quietly cursed, looking to Warfield for guidance.  The Prince nodded
    it was safe for him to leave.  He could tell Lord Aja needed a bit longer,
    but Kowalski wasn't struggling anymore and they could manage between
    them.  
    He could hear voices, sense emotions.  The Seeker - for none of them
    had  ever met Turnbull - was restrained, trying to mask and control the
    fear he  felt for his friends.  Strange that he should not fear them...that
    he should  put such faith in the word of a gangster prince and the grudging
    protection  of a near-get that had insulted him.  The Seeker was right.
    He could trust  Warfield and he could depend on Marco.	
    
    Vecchio was different. He was frightened of them and the situation and
    it showed in his voice and breathing and heartbeat.  There was added
    tension, too, at the sight of  Zuko.	Old rivalries did not die and the
    ghost of Irene would forever be between these two men. He heard to the
    Seeker's anxious questions but did not listen, concentrating on the ghoulite
    Lord Aja was feeding, at once envying and pitying him.  
    Turnbull's voice rose in pitch.  Diefenbaker's ears perked up and with
    a  happy yip he headed for the door, pushing it open before anyone could
    think  to stop him.  Silence, then clearly, 
     
    "Diefenbaker!  Where is Ray?" 
     
    "No!" Zuko shouted, trying to intervene even though they were all under
    orders not to harm the Seeker. "No!" 
     
    "Back off, Zuko!" Vecchio shouted as the door slammed open. 
     
    "NO!" screamed Turnbull, horrorfied by the gorey scene before him.  "NO!
    Stop!  You can't!" 
     
    Zuko seized him, and despite the Mountie's greater height and weight,
    held  him with ease. Vecchio  lunged, only to be restrained by Marco
    as a few other  Giovanni rushed over, alerted by the shouting. 
     
    "Stop!	Ray, don't drink!  Don't!" 
     
    Aja smiled.  So young.  All of them.  He pulled the sleeve of his brocade
    robe back down over his wrist.  Already the wound was almost healed.
    Gently, the vampire smoothed the strangely-colored hair of the unfortunate,
    chosen ghoulite?  Yes, that was the word they used today - before  transferring
    his head from his lap to a pillow.  He was overwhelmed for now,  lost
    in the waking dreams such a transfer would bring.	Then Aja rose,	dignified
    and assured as he faced the newcomers. 
     
    "Son of Rachel.  Be welcome." 
     
    Turnbull was stricken dumb with shock that a scene so hideous could be
    treated so casually. 
     
    "What have you done to him, Lord?" screamed the Slayer, fighting Zuko's
    grip. 
     
    "I am trying to save his life.  It is what you asked, Seeker." 
     
    "His LIFE!  I wanted to keep him alive!" 
     
    "And so you shall, brave son of Rachel." 
     
    Vecchio found his voice, unable to tear his eyes away from the	
    Mongolian-looking fossile not twelve feet away.  "Who the fuck are you?"
    
    Lord Aja bowed his head.  "You would best know me as Caine." 
    
    ***
    
    Ray could heard them arguing above him. He shuddered in pain, feeling
    Aja's blood go to work. It was ten times worse than Lilith's. He could
    see how the man had become a vampire. Being cast out of his home, taken
    in by Lilith. Ten endless days of agony as Lilith drained him over and
    over again. Finally feeding him enough to cause the change. 
    
    He could feel millenia of pain and suffering. The death of the first
    Dillivium, Caine's first 13 children. And he screamed for each death.
    
    ***
    
    Fraser pried open his eyes, staring at the ceiling of  Ray's bedroom.
    Blood. His blood stained the bedsheets. It took him a minute to realise
    he was looking down at them. Another to realise why. 
    
    He was hanging, by his feet from the ceiling. Roped nailed to the boards
    that made up the ceiling. He struggled, painfully. "No...Ray?" 
    
    Calhoun smirked. "Two hours. Think he'll show?"
    
    ***
    
    "Let them go." 
     
    "My Lord -" 
     
    "They cannot harm me. Let them go.  Let them help their friend."  
    
    Zuko and Marco released their captives.  Turnbull rushed over to Ray
    Kowalski as Vecchio automatically assumed a cover position, casting a
    hearty glare at Zuko as he shifted to cover the Slayer. 
     
    "Ray," breathed Turnbull, turning the American towards him gently.  "Ray,
    can you hear me?"  He looked to Caine with frightened eyes.  "Will he
    go  over? Did you make him a vampire?" 
     
    Caine shook his head. "Only if he so chooses, Son of Rachel." 
     
    "What did you do to him?" Vecchio growled at Zuko. 
     
    It was a stand-off between the one-time friends.  Zuko smirked.  "Kidnapped
    him, beat the shit out of him, forced him to drink some Caanite blood,
    then kept him unconscious for a day before dumping him in an alley. 
    What did you do to him?"  
    "You son of a bitch!  You knew he was sick!" 
     
    "So did you," snapped Zuko. 
     
    Dief's return prevented the situation from escalating.  He ran over to
    Ray  Vecchio, shedding his wolf form as he moved, then looked up at Zuko
    as he  took Ray by the hand and drew him towards the writhing figure
    on the cot.  
    Vecchio crouched beside Turnbull.  "What's up?" 
     
    "He's in pain.  He-" 
     
    Vecchio's cell phone rang.  With a muffled curse he twisted out of Dief's
    grip and dug it out of his pocket.  "Vecchio." 
     
    "Ray, it's me." 
     
    "Stella-" 
     
    "I just received a very disturbed phone call from Constable Fraser and
    another man.  He said something about Ray's sire and an Elder Kowalski.
    Is  he talking about Ray's father?" 
    
    "Elder..." Vecchio wrinkled his nose. Why would Benny call Ray Elder....oh
    no. "Stella, what'd he sound like." 
    
    "He was in pain. Ray, what's going on?"
    
    "You better get down here."
    
    "Ray?"
    
    "Just come."
    
    ***
    
    He felt the blade of Calhoun's knife against his arm and squirmed when
    it pierced flesh. "No..." Fraser whimpered, in massive pain. "God..."
    
    "God won't help you now. He didn't help me..."
    
    "Please. Let me go. I'll get you help." Fraser was begging. He was in
    too much pain not to. He hated it. "Please. You don't want to do this,
    you don't have to..." 
    
    "Sorry. I kinda like it" He licked at the blood running down Fraser's
    arms and onto the sheeets. "Ellery's. And a bit of Kowalski's. He's running"
    
    "He'll come for you."
    
    "I doubt it."
    
    "He killed Lilith."
    
    "No he didn't."
    
    /Not yet/
    
    ***
    
    "Stella can't find out what I am," stated Turnbull, glancing back at
    Vecchio. 
     
    "Done," agreed Warfield. 
     
    "I also would advise she not meet /you,/ my lord." 
     
    Caine cocked his head. "Why is that, Son of Rachel?" 
     
    "She's a vengance demon," Turnbull replied. 
     
    "Ah," said the ancient vampire.  "I have met such creatures.  They are
    rarely pleasant." 
     
    "She's also Detective Kowalski's ex-wife." 
     
    "And my girlfriend," added Vecchio wryly, thinking how like a soap opera
    their lives had become. 
     
    "Ah," repeated Caine, this time with sympathy. 
     
    *** 
     
    A voice, silently calling. 
     
    Ray could hear it in his mind, though he could not have said what language
    it spoke.  Nonetheless, he understod.  Another joined it, then another.
    More.  A weird harmony with too many parts, a strange composition  of
    sound that was almost a song.  It was a glad sound and it gave him a
    warmth he had not felt outside of being with Fraser.	It was...love? 
    
    Of a kind, at least. 
     
    Voices, not quite in unison, spoke from out of the darkness in his mind.
    "You honor us with your grief, brother." 
     
    "Who are you?" he wondered, not sure if he spoke aloud or not, unable
    to  feel his body. 
     
    "We are the children of Caine, thirteen in number, all slain by the dark
    queen.	Few have mourned us as you have." 
     
    "I...I felt it." 
     
    "You felt the anguish our father felt at our slaughter.  She feared our
    might and envied our father's love." 
     
    "He...doen't mean to hurt me, does he?" 
     
    "You are his son, our brother, and he loves you as he loved us.  He fears
    for what you must do." 
     
    "Wha't that?" Ray called. 
     
    "You must destroy the mother." 
    
    "How?"
     
    "With the weapons you were born with and that she herself has provided.
    You stand between the worlds, brother, and you have a soul.  Never surrender
    it." 
    
    "What weapon was I born with?"
    
    "Your inner eye. You must nurture it. Use it for far more than you have
    used it for..." 
    
    "What're you saying? I can do more than see flashy things?"
    
    "Yes."
    
    He suddenly felt twitchy. "No. Not again...Don't..."
    
    "You must..."
    
    : "No..."  He squeezed his eyes tightly shut against the onrushing visions.
    Burning pain ignited in his wrists and his chest ached as his arms were
    lashed to cold metal.  When he lifted his head he knew he was seeing
    through Fraser's eyes when Calhoun came into focus.  Crucified.  Calhoun
    had crucified Fraser...or would he?  When was this moment of pain?  Maybe
    this was /now/? 
    
    "God...no..."
    
    ***
    
    Stella followed Ray in the other room. "What's going on?"
    
    "I'm not sure exactly," He crossed his arms, not sure how much to tell
    her. "There's a vampire after Stanley. I guess he was attacked once,
    got some powerful blood." 
    
    She nodded, seeming to understand. 
    
    ***
    
    Caine watched as Ray convulsed on the bunk. Turnbull was trying to staunch
    the flow of blood from his nose with a towel. "Well?" 
    
    "He's seeing something. It must be pretty bad..We need to get to the
    zoo.." 
    
    "I don't suggest it, Constable. It could be a trap."
    
    "Fras...Ben...hurt...go..."
    
    "He's hurt?"
    
    "I...go..."
    
    "You're in no condition..."
    
    "I /have/ to go...Cal...hn has him," Kowalski managed, ignoring Turnbull's
    efforts.  "Hurt him.  Bleeding...bleeding.  Gotta-" 
    
    "You're in no condit-" Vecchio said, entering the room with Stella. 
    
    He ignored Vecchio's protest as he turned to Caine.  "They s-said I hava
    soul...to fight for it."  He swallowed.  "F-Fraser is my soul." 
     
    The occupants of the room were struck dumb. 
     
    Caine smiled warmly at Ray, reaching out a hand to cup his cheek and
    jaw in  an affectionate gesture.  "Now," said the odd accent, "now you
    begin to understand, my son.  You see what the mother has lost." 
     
    Ray nodded mutely, then whispered, "I gotta go." 
     
    "Yes," agreed Caine. 
     
    "Detective Kowalski," stammered Turnbull in a good imitation of himself,
    "do  you think it wise?  Should you call your leftenant for back up?"
    
    "You do...whatever ya want.  I gotta...save Frase." 
     
    Zuko pulled Vecchio aside.  "the zoo will be crawling with Sabbat.  You
    can't just flood the place with cops, it'll be a slaughter!"  He glanced
    at  Diefenbaker, wedged between Ray and Caine.  "The werewolf stays here."
    
    "What?" 
     
    "Werewolf blood is addictive to our kind.  Look at the Sabbat as the
    equivilant of the drug-addicted pieces of lowlife scum you have to deal
    with  on the streets.  They'd shred him in a minute.	Maybe less." 
     
    "What about Stan?" 
     
    "If he can figure out what he's about between here and the zoo, he's
    got a  chance.  Better get moving." 
     
    With a quick nod, Turnbull bent and scooped Ray Kowalski into his arms.
    He was surprisingly light.  Ray moaned, his words still slurred.  
    "Take care of...my clan." 
     
    Warfield answered.  "They will be safe." 
     
     ***
    
    Calhoun tightened the ropes on Fraser's wrists. The constable could hear
    the sound of the animals chattering. It was oddly comforting. "Don't
    do this." 
    
    "Sorry." Calhoun grinned, carressing Fraser's face, roughly. "Really."
    
    "He'll kill you. I won't be able to stop him."
    
    "He'll die. Sabbat blood is poison to a Caanite or a Bahari."
    
    "A Bahari?"
    
    "Childer of Lilith." Calhoun moved to Fraser's ankles. 
    
    "It's what you want." Fraser tugged, hard, at the bonds holdng him up.
    He groaned in pain. "Isn't it?" He tugged again. No slack. the ropes
    burned the cuts on him. He rested his head on the cage. 
    
    Calhoun touched the side of Fraser's face, tossing the stetson away.
    "What?" 
    
    "You want him to feed off one of yours. So he'll die. So he'll rise..."
    
    "Yeah?"
    
    "His blood...Ellery and Lilith's blood will be more potent when he's
    dead..." Fear and realisation struck Fraser mute. 
    
    "You catch on quick, Constable."
    
    ***
    
    Ray rested his head on Vecchio's shoulder as they moved towards the zoo.
    His eyes were closed tight, as if he were asleep. The purple hair clashed
    with the green suit. Vecchio sighed, glancing at Stella. "You didn't
    have to come." 
    
    "How often do you get to see your ex get the crap beaten out of him by
    vampires?" 
    
    He gave her a look. "We're talking Stan here. Like, every day..." He
    shook his head. "You've got a real nice attitude towards him, ya know.
    Unhealthy." 
    
    "I'm a vengence demon. I'm supposed to." They reacted at Ray's sigh.
    
    Ray could /feel/ Fraser as they got closer to the zoo. He was in pain,
    burning agony. He whimpered, trying to stop it in his as well as Fraser.
    He failed. 
    
    But where there was anguish in his soul, pain for his lover, there rose
    an  equal measure of anger.  Who was this /Sabbat/ to touch his Mountie?
    Who  was Calhoun to threaten him in his own home? 
     
    "Put me down," ordered Ray. 
     
    Turnbull stopped, startled by the tone of voice. 
     
    "Put me down," repeated Ray.  "Now." 
     
    Turnbull set him on his feet.  The anger was growing. 
     
    /He must fight for his soul./ 
     
    ...fraser is my soul.... 
     
    Calhoun was goin' down. 
     
    "Stay here," he ordered.  He saw Irene behind Vecchio and Stella and
    added,   "You, too." 
     
    /That's the spirit, Yank.  Have you figured it out a bit?/ 
     
    Hands clasped behind his back, the old Mountie walked towards him.  
    
    "I'm gettin' there, Fraser," muttered Kowalski. 
     
    /Did you know your hair is purple?/
    
    "Gee. Really, no. I hadn't noticed."
    
    /No need for sarcasm/
    
    "Later, Canada." He kicked open the gate to the zoo, sniffing the air
    for traces of his lover. West. He could sense the Sabbat watching him
    and narrowed his eyes. They'd probabally been given orders not to touch
    him, Calhoun probabally wanted him to himself. Bastard. 
    
    He moved through the darkened maze of paths and animal pens.  Silent.
    Too  silent.  The animals were afraid. 
    
    He could see them now. Calhoun standing beside a barely conscious Fraser.
    His rage rose to a fever pitch. Fraser was tied, crucifix like to the
    cage, his head hanging down. "Calhoun..." Was that his voice that sounded
    so harsh? 
    
    Fraser stirred, fighting off the coldness that was slowly working its
    way  like a cancer through his limbs.  He couldn't feel his hands.  Everything
    hurt and he wanted so desperately to sleep and wake up to what life had
    been before today. 
    
    That voice...Ray? 
    
    "Kowalski." Calhoun grinned. "How's my Get? Taking care of them?" 
    
    "What've you done to him?"
    
    "Nothing much. Yet." Calhoun tilted his head, "Ellery's blood's almost
    as good outta him..." 
    
    He grinned, growling as Ray came in for an attack.
    
    "Ray! No!" Fraser squeezed his eyes shut, shaking had.
    
    ***  
    
    Stella shook her head, starting into the building. "Hey! What're you
    doing, he said to wait." Vecchio grabbed her by the arm. 
    
    "Since when do you listen to him?"
    
    "Since he started making sense." 
    
    "Fighting the Sabbat alone makes sense to you?!"
    
    Turnbull, whose eyes had never left the open gate, spoke without looking.
    "We wait." 
     
    Stella glared, her standard response.  "Who the hell do you think you-"
    
    She broke off when Turnbull sent her a look so stern that she flinched.
    Ray  Vecchio had the immense pleasure of seeing the Stella square off
    against a  will greater than hers and lose. 
     
    "We wait." A long pause. "How long?"
     
    *** 
    
    Fraser could hear the sounds of what sounded like two wild animals trying
    to eat eachother alive. He bit back a sob, trying not to scream. He could
    no longer feel his hands.  His legs burned with supporting his weight
    so  akwardly.  They say you die by asphyxiation when crucified and he
    could  believe it. Breathing was difficult, his vision blurry. 
    
     "Ray...stop!" He sounded desperate. Here and now, he didn't know what
    would  happen to him if Ray died.  He did know that he could not live
    long without the American beside him.  He gazed at the shadowy fighters
    before him and wished that yesterday had never hapened. 
    
    /Yank, stop. He'll kill you./
    
    "I think I can handle it, Canada..." He was over confident. Rightfully
    so. With Caine's legacy flowing in his veins, he was more powerful than
    Calhoun could ever hope to be.  Anger gave him strength.  Who was this
    Sabbat to harm his Mountie?  Who was Calhoun to  threaten him? 
    
    He got Calhoun pinned under him and bit down, hard. 
    
    Foul tasting blood filled his mouth and he gulped against it. It tasted
    horrible. He pulled back, shaking uncontrollably. Spitting. Numbness
    took his mouth, his throat.  Slowed him.  He stumbled to his feet,  trying
    to remain upright in case Calhoun assaulted him again, but the vampire
    just lay on the ground laughing in twisted delight.  Ray gasped for air,
    spitting at the taste, the effect on his body.  His movements were slow,
    labored, like swimming through syrup. He tried to concentrate, push past
    the coldness that gripped him. 
    
    "Ray...?" He watched Ray stumble backwards, heart pounding hard. "Ray,
    your gun. Use it..." 
     
    Gun?  Did he have it still?  Yes.  Where were his glasses? 
     
    /Fight, Yank. You're not using all your weapons./ 
     
    "How do you like it, Prince Kowalski?" mocked Calhoun, his high-pitched
    laughter echoing in the dark. 
     
    Weapons.  What did he have?  His gun? 
     
    "You didn't know I could do that, did you?  Never thought someone weaker
    could kill you.  You think like a human." 
     
    /He's got a point, Yank.  Fight him on his level, not yours./ 
     
    What did he have?  The dead.  Flashes.  Animals.  Humanity.  His soul.
    Fraser... 
     
    The dead... 
     
    "Louis," he whispered, "Give me some ammo on this bastard!" 
     
    Instantly his mind was filled with the image of a snowbound wilderness.
    The Yukon Territories of the nineteenth century. A lone Mountie heading
    home, his thoughts turned to his wife and newborn child, taking in what
    he  thought was a fur poacher. 
     
    "No," whispered Calhoun, sensing the shift in the battle.  His laughter
    stopped as Ray attacked from a new angle. 
     
    Screams.  Blood on the pristine snow and a new vampire was born amidst
    ice  and darkness. 
     
    Ray concentrated, focusing the image. It was almost a flash. Around them,
    the animals were becoming restless.  The Sabbat shifted uncomfortably
    from  where they watched and waited. 
     
    A woman.  Beautiful, graceful, black hair piled on her head and soft
    gray  eyes. 
     
    "Noooooo!" 
     
    An infant daughter in her arms, anxious for him to come home. 
     
    His first victims. 
     
    Ray threw everything he had into the flash.  The animals rose up in 
    agitated confusion.  He could taste his own blood.  It didn't mask the
    poison. 
     
    Somehow, Calhoun rushed him, slamming him against the cage close to where
    Fraser was tied.  
    "Kill you!" hissed Calhoun.  "I'll kill you!" 
     
    Ray growled through clenched teeth, "Like you killed them?" 
     
    *** 
     
    Turnbull was breathing heavily, trying to restrain himself.  He could
    hear  the animals in the zoo stirring.  A wolf howled, long and lonely
    and  eerily.  Beside him, he knew Ray had his gun drawn and Stella was
    glaring  at him as was her habit with everyone. 
     
    "Well?" she demanded. 
     
    Turnbull nodded, digging into his pockets.  "Long enough." 
    
    Stella looked at him, nodding thanks as he slipped a stake into her hand.
    "I don't need this. I can..." 
    
    "I know. For Ray."
    
    Stella gasped, then nodded sadly.
    
    Vecchio looked at him sharply as they moved slowly through the zoo. "You
    think we may have to put him down?" 
    
    "If the constable's dead...sabbat blood is poison to ghoulites. If he
    drinks, and he dies he'll become like them. Addicted, in pain..." 
    
    Stella finished on a breath. "Insane."
    
    He nodded. "And I don't think Detective Vecchio or I are prepared to
    do it..." 
    
    "Turnbull?" 
     
    "Yes?" 
     
    Ray pointed at the strangely shaped weapon the constable hefted.  "What
    the hell is /that?/"  
    He looked at the toy.  "My water gun." 
     
    "Water gun.  You're going to hold off droves of undead with a Buck Rogers
    hand-me-down?" 
     
    "It's full of holy water.  It should be quite effective against the Sabbat,
    Detective."
     
    They were interrupted by screams of agony Of fear. The animals. 
    
    "Oh God. What's happening?" Vecchio whispered. 
     
    Stella wrinkled her nose in distaste.  "Sabbat.  They smell like an 
    abbatior.  Revolting." 
     
    Turnbull gestured for silence, pointing. 
     
    Part of the wolf pen. a caged observation area, was just on the other
    side  of a landscaped island in the pathway. A tall figure, distinct
    in tunic and jodphers, hung from the bars by his extended arms.  
    "Fucking bastard crucified him!" breathed Vecchio.  He made to surge
    forward when Turnbull seized his arm, halting the advance.  
    "Wait!" 
     
    The path was blocked by Sabbat. 
    
    ***
    
    A faint moan escaped Fraser's lips.  Calhoun had positioned his victim
    to  inflict a maximum of pain.  The eight or so wolves moved about the
    cage,  drawn to Ray even as they avoided the Mountie. Perhaps they smelled
    Diefenbaker upon him. 
     
    Suddenly Calhoun bodily slammed Ray against the cage with a curse of
    fury.   Ray's reaction was instantanious: he head-butted the vampire
    squarely in the  face as more images of the fallen Mountie were revealed.
    
    "Who was next?	Richardson, right?  Yer own partner.  Then yer sergeant,
    Lafayette.  Then ya couldn't hide it anymore, huh?" 
     
    Calhoun was momentarily stunned and Ray was fighting to loosen the bonds
    on Fraser's wrist as he spoke.  An anguished cry rang out as his arm
    was freed and fell to his side.  
    "Behind-" 
     
    Instinct took over.  Ray whirled, swinging a backfist into the lunging
    Calhoun with so much force he assumed he broke his hand and just kept
    on  fighting.  Calhoun staggered. 
     
    Fraser clawed at the ropes holding his other arm.  It was almost impossible
    with his legs immobilized like this.  If he could get down he could help
    Ray.  Help to stop Calhoun... 
     
    He had never been so glad Ray had Victoria's blood in him until now.
    
    Ray shoved Calhoun back, drawing his gun aiming it at the vampire.  His
    blurred vision caught several dark forms moving through the bushes. 
    The  Sabbat were emerging from their hiding places. 
     
    Behind Fraser, the wolves were growling and bristling at the vampires,
    drawing towards Ray as if to protect him. 
     
    In that instant, Calhoun spat a mouthful of blood into Ray's face.  The
    gorey fluid got into his eyes, his mouth, and he let out a short cry.
    Ray  gagged as much at the taste as at the idea. Then the undead elder
    slammed  into him, smashing him onto the cement walkway.  For one hideous
    second  everything went black, then Ray twisted.  
    
    He aimed as best he could and  fired. Calhoun just grunted as the silver
    bullet nicked his thigh.  He was so close...He slapped the gun from Ray's
    grip and pounced.  To Ray he stank of old blood and death and filth.
    The Chicago detective struggled, but the poisen spewed at him was taking
    effect and he was slowing.  Calhoun had him pinned, seized his hair and
    yanked his head back to expose his throat.  
    "Ray!" screamed Fraser. 
     
    //So sorry.  Love you...// 
     
    "Ray!" 
     
    He tried to rise, to recall the flash.	Instead he felt hot breath on
    his  neck.  A faint sting as the Sabbat's teeth teased the tender flesh.
    
    "You reek of Caine," hissed Calhoun and bit down hard, shoving Ray's
    head back so hard it hit the sidewalk.  
    Ray Kowalski screamed, fighting despite the burning pain. He shrieked
    in pain, clawing at Calhoun's shoulders and back.  
    "Ray!" 
     
    A shot rang out.  Ray tensed, expecting Calhoun to fall, but the Sabbat
    only  hesitated.  There was a creak of an iron gate opening, angry growls,
    and  suddenly the wolves attacked Calhoun. 
     
    An inhuman wail rose into the night as eight adult wolves went for the
    vampire.  Ray was thrown aside, landing in a heap, as the pack tried
    their  best to rend Calhoun.  The Sabbat Elder went berzerk, bleeding
    profusely  from a dozen or more wounds as the wolves harried and attacked
    him.  
    Fraser staggered to Ray's side and fell next to him, still clutching
    the  American's gun.  Ray was a filthy, bloody mess of broken flesh and
    gore.  
    "Ray!  Ray, did you drink from him?" begged Fraser, feeling for a pulse
    at  Ray's bleeding neck.  "Answer me!  Ray!" 
     
    Slipping.  He was slipping.  But he was safe now.  Fraser, his soul,
    was  free. 
    
    "Ray. Ray, please. Open your eyes. Talk to me..."
    
    /Watch out, Yank.../
    
    What....oh...God. 
    
    His whole body trembled as he felt the vision take him and the sabbat
    blood work it's poison on him. His mouth opened and closed several times
    in a silent scream. He groaned. Pain. Burning. Screaming. 
    
    Lilith.
    
    She was here. Now. Hunting Caine. Hunting him.  For entirely different
    reasons.  And she would get him.  Who was Ray Kowalski to stand against
    a creature older than Eve herself?  His weapons seemed puny and laughable
    by comparison to Lilith. 
    
    He felt Fraser's hands on his face, forcing his mouth open.  He heard
    the Mountie sniff deep, then felt him stiffen.  Those dark blue eyes
    flew wide with horror. 
    
    Ray had consumed Calhoun's blood.
    
    "Oh God. Ray, no..." Fraser shook, his arms and legs aching from the
    hours spent on the wall of the cage. Mindful of his lover's injuries,
    he lifted  Ray partially on his lap, resting the detective's shoulders
    and head on his  lap.  He could hear footsteps around him and looked
    up.  For a moment, he  was nose-to-nose with a curious timber wolf. Then
    the wolf glided back to  the cage as people emerged.  Vecchio, Turnbull,
    and...Stella Kowalski?   They were disheveled and breathless, but seemed
    unharmed. 
    
    "Love you..." Ray's voice was hoarse. He slowly gripped Fraser's hand
    in his good one. "She's here..." He gasped in pain, clutching Fraser's
    hand tightly. "Fraser, she's here.." 
    
    "Lilith..." Turnbull muttered. 
    
    Ray Vecchio cast a look around.  "Where the hell's Calhoun?" 
     
    "Gone," replied the Seeker.  "For now." 
     
    Ray struggled to speak again. 
    
    "Frayze...gotta arrest ya..."
    
    "Why, Ray?"
    
    "...don't have....firearms..." He muttered before blacking out.
    
    Tears slid down Fraser's pale and dirty cheeks.  Would they ever find
    peace?  H didn't realize he was passing out until he heard Ray Vecchio
    give a  shout and felt strong hands supporting him.  He was distressed
    when Ray's  slight weight was lifted away from him.  He saw Turnbull
    cradle the  unconscious ghoulite in his arms and smiled.  Ray was safe.
    He looked so  sweet and child-like, even with that purple hair.  He looked
    at Vecchio's  anxious face and wide green eyes and wondered what his
    friend had to be  worried about.	Fine.  They would be...fine.... 
     
    **** 
    
    Ray Vecchio paced the floor nervously, gesturing broadly with both hands.
    "They both should be in the hospital." 
     
    "They would be far too vulnerable," Caine replied, his voice calm.  
    
    "Fraser bled half to death and Stan got his head beat in for him again
    and  now Turnbull's teling me that Calhoun's blood will kill him.  Stan,
    I mean."  
    "I understand, Raymond.  Do you?" 
     
    "What do you mean?" 
    
    Caine smiled, almost secretively. He picked up a coin that had been lying
    on the table beside him and handed it to Vecchio. "The ouroborus. You've
    seen it before?" 
    
    An ouroborus. A snake eating it's self. An eternal loop. The coin was
    ancient, and Vecchio couldn't help but wonder at the strange writing
    alongside the snake.  Did history even know the name of the people that
    had forged this bit of metal? 
    
    "No."
    
    "An eternal loop. They are of each other, if Elder Kowalski were to die,
    as would the Slayer. And vice versa. They're entwined, their souls."
    Caine's eyes rested on a point beyond Vecchio's shoulder. "As are some
    others." 
    
    "Irene and me..."
    
    "In a way..."
    
    "He would have died for Benny..." Vecchio looked up at the sound of ravens
    cawing coming from the partially opened window.  He knew he had heard
    that  >noise somewhere.  Was it in Canada?  The Pass?"What is that?"
    
    "They're flocking. She's calling her children." Caine looked sharply
    towards a room as a scream came from it. "All of them." 
    
    "Stan..." Vecchio pushed past the oldest vampire, and into the room.
    Fraser  was holding Ray tightly, trying to keep him still. 
    
    Bandages engulfed Fraser's wrists and ankles and Ray was a mass of bruises
    and cuts, his left hand splinted and wrapped. Diefenbaker stood by the
    bed, watching curiously at the unusually odd behaviour of his two favorite
    humans.  Despite his condition, Ray fought to free himself, eyes opened
    in mindless response. 
    
    "Ray, help me..." Fraser held Ray's struggling body tightly, trying to
    keep him from going to Victoria. 
    
    "No. Let him go." Caine whispered. 
    
    "She'll kill him..." Fraser gasped, shaking. "I can't..."
    
    "No, she won't. She needs him. He'll lead us to her. Let him go..." 
    
    "He will perservere, Slayer," assured Caine.  "Do not turn from him."
    
    The Mountie paled at the mere suggestion that he abandon his lover. "Ray?"
    
    "He hears, Slayer, but he cannot comprehend yet.  He is as a migrating
    bird,  compelled to move without knowing why." 
     
    "Ray?" 
     
    The detective writhed in his arms, a jumbled litany escaping him.  "...f-frase...Gotta
    go I-I can't stay she'll find me and kill you I gotta go  now please
    don't stop me I love you so much I'm sorry I have to go I-"  
    "I love you," promised Fraser, releasing him. 
    
    Ray stood on trembling feet, stumbling towards the door of the Giovanni
    council building. He felt lurchy and dizzy but knew he would not fall.
    She wouldn't allow it. The Caanites kept their distance, understanding
    better  than he what was happening.  He fumbled for the door and as he
    struggled  with the locks, a hand reached over his shoulder and helped
    him. Fraser.   The Mountie wasted no time in judging or questioning Ray's
    motives, but  pushed the door open. 
     
    Ray stared into those dark blue eyes and bit back a sob. He didn't want
    to  go into the night.  Never wanted to leave Fraser's side.  He had
    followed  this man to the ends of the earth before, he would never hesitate
    to do it  again because this man was his entire world.  The passion he
    entertained for  the Stella paled by comparison to what he harbored for
    this freakish,  stilted, polite, wonderful Mountie. 
     
    Ray looked at him gratefully, his black eyes filling with tears.  They
    stood  in the icey draft of the open door and he wished he could find
    the words to  tell Fraser how he felt. Not many people would have granted
    him freedom, let  alone helped him to walk into this field of near-certain
    death. Words proved  unnecessay, though. 
     
    Fraser reached out, carefully wrapping the scarf he wore around his neck
    in  a gesture so simple and affectionate that Caine and his children,
    watching  from the shadows, smiled despite the gravity of the situation.
    Then Fraser  took Ray's face in both his hands, drawing the wirey American
    foreward for a  kiss that sent a wave of shock and...was that envy? through
    their audience.   For a moment it seemed they became one being, so tightly
    did their bodies  press. Caine, closer to Kowalski than the other vampires,
    felt Victoria's  hold waver for an instant, so powerful was the love
    they felt. 
     
    She must have felt it, too, from where ever she was hidden because suddenly
    Ray yanked back from Fraser's hold, panting and in pain, the poison in
    him  flaring up angrily.  He stared at the Slayer for one moment of wordless
    longing, then turned and plunged into the night. 
     
    Warfield turned to Zuko.  "After him." 
     
    Fraser stared into the darkness that had taken Ray, barely aware of the
    biting cold except for his thought that Ray was not dressed for it and
    could  not withstand such bitter weather for long.  He watched Zuko and
    half a  dozen other vampires trail the ghoulite, then turned numbly to
    where Caine  and Vecchio and Warfield stood. 
     
    "He is my son," Caine assured. "I will fight for him, Slayer." 
     
    *** 
     
    She sat in the large house, waiting with growing smugness. Her children
    ambled around the house, waiting but with less patience.   She glanced
    about  at the ones she had summoned, an odd mix of powers and ages and
    races. HIS own clan was here, the three frightened get that stood together
    in the corner, forbidden to leave this room and guarded by some of her
    more  ruthless offspring. 
     
    HE entered, Ray Kowalski, his braced wrist held awkwardly at his side.
    Those  strange, black eyes met hers.  He ignored his clan, though he
    could not have  failed to notice them or the frightened looks they sent
    his way. She approached him slowly, staring at his wounds. Clearly he
    was on the verge of  collapse, his already frail body being driven beyond
    all endurance.  The  past few months had not been kind to him.  She smiled.
    Neither had  she...and now she had her dark-haired prince in whose veins
    flowed her blood and whose weapons would be hers in the upcoming war.
    
    "Are you willing to fight for the Bahari, Elder Kowalski?" 
     
    Almost against his will, he nodded. "Yesss..." 
     
    "Do you wish to be healed, Elder?" 
     
    "Yesss..." 
     
    "I will heal you, elder.  But first, you must prove yourself.  Are you
    willing?" 
     
    Ray hesitated.	Prove himself?	Shit.  This was gonna be ugly and he'd
    lost the ability to say no.	Shit.  
    His voice trembled as much as his body.  "Yessss..." 
     
    Victoria pointed to the corner.  "Destroy them." 
     
    His clan. 
     
    Furious at the suggestion, Ray hissed, "No!" 
     
    "Then you will never be healed.  They're just get.  You can make more
    when  you cross over, Elder. They're expendable." 
     
    "Not to me.  Leave them out of this." 
     
    "They're already in.  Destroy them, or you yourself will die and then
    I'll  destroy them myself." 
     
    "Go to hell." 
     
    She laughed, long and loud.  It hurt his ears. "I've been there. Done
    that. So have you, haven't you?" He shuddered as she cupped his chin,
    pulling him closer. "Don't worry, my little love, I don't care if you
    destroy them or  not.  I know you never could.	I just wanted to see if
    you're as stupid with loyality as I suspected. Do you wish to cross over?"
    
    He fought to keep back the assent, but just as he had been compelled
    by her to come to this place, he could not refuse her. The word bubbled
    out of his throat, unwillingly. "Yesss..." A flash of an image. Calhoun
    attacking him. Then Lilith. Louis? 
    
    Couldn't she smell Caine in him? Or could she, and she just didn't care?
    
    /Let her.../ Louis. How...? No, it didn't matter not now.
    
    He nodded freely now, reassured. Gardino had never steered him wrong.
    "Yeah...I wanna cross over..." He felt her press him against the wall,
    biting him deep. Deeper than Calhoun ever had, deeper even then Ellery.
    She bit into the artery, licking at the wound. Sapping up all the blood
    she could. 
    
    Ray gasped as a weird, ecstatic kind of pain filled him. His vision dimmed,
    his hearing faded. He suddenly felt her pulling away, shoving him aside.
    Screaming. She was screaming. He felt her pain in him, bubbling up like
    acid. The poison was working it's way out of him. He fell to his knees,
    gagging, clutching at his throat in agony as he saw Lilith fall, shrieking
    as the Sabbat blood burned her inside and out. 
    
    He could barely move, the blood kept flowing from the torn artery. He
    clutched at his neck, trying to staunch the flow even as he heard her
    scream. 
    
    Who would have thought Calhoun's revenge would be so complete?	She had
    been done in by her own haste to control the unknown factor in her own
    fate.  
    The children she had gathered to her reeled in confusion, some trying
    to aid  Lilith as she thrashed upon the floor, others looking for an
    escape.  None  of them paid Ray any heed, too upset and frightened by
    her reactions  consider any counter measure of their own.  Dimly, they
    could feel the	burning, their diluted blood not nearly as potent as what
    she had just	consumed... 
     
    Ray heard a cry of alarm and felt someone's arms around him, pulling
    him to  the relative safety of the hall. Fraser? No. Mina. He gagged,
    unable to stop  expulling the Sabbat blood or stop the bleeding at his
    throat. 
     
    "Elder!  Ray!  Hold on!" 
     
    Everything was going black.  Ray felt Jay's strong arms supporting him
    and  knew Mina was talking, though he could not tell what she said to
    him. 
    
    "He's bleeding too fast. We have to...." He felt a sharp tugging at his
    neck. What was she doing? Whatever it was, it hurt. A lot. But the bleeding
    seemed to be slowing. He felt something squeeze his hand. Lucia?  
    Then the door was kicked in and all hell broke loose as Zuko and his
    small  group swept into the building and yet another battle in the inevitable
    war  was fought and won.  Lilith's clans were caught unprepared for the
    arrival  of their rivals the Giovanni and the Chicago P.D. and they paid
    the price  for their arrogance.  In minutes it was over and a satisfied
    Zuko called  his men and Ray Vecchio off, letting the last few vampires
    escape.  They had  torn the unfortunates apart - they would not drink
    from ones such as these,  proving they could learn something from the
    likes of Ray Kowalski.  
    Victoria still writhed on the floor, her beautiful face a mask of pain,
    her  lips burned by the tainted blood upon them. Vecchio looked at her
    with	hatred and disgust.  She had tried to kill his best friend and he
    had sworn  she would pay.	He was just disappointed that he hadn't been
    the one to do  her in.  Then the reality of what was happening here,
    what he'd taken part  in just now, swept over him and he desperately
    wanted to vomit.  The room  stank of blood and death.  He could hear
    voices in the hall - Mina ordering  Jay to take off his shirt as they
    tried to stem the slowed bleeding from Stan's  neck. 
     
    //Damn!  She got him good!  Benny's gonna have a fit!// 
     
    "I'm calling an ambulance," he informed Zuko, pulling out his cell phone.
    
    "Get him outside for them to take," snapped the mob boss.  "We're not
    done  here yet." 
     
    "What?" 
     
    Caine swept into the room, ignoring the bodies of the fallen vampires,
    barely even glancing at the dark mother of them all. He went straight
    for Kowalski, peering down at him. Sadness was etched in every corner
    of his face as he watched the get try to staunch the heavy but slow 
    flow of blood from their elder. 
    
    It touched him. He wasn't even their sire, yet they cared for him as
    if he were.  And vice versa. He had seen the love in Kowalski's eyes
    when he'd begged Warfield to watch over his clan. 
    
    Ray was trying to talk, but couldn't. Caine knealt beside him, brushing
    the strange purple hair out of his eyes. "Close your eyes." He smiled
    as Ray did what he was told, glancing over as Fraser and Turnbull finally
    entered the building. 
    
    The mountie stood at the door, staring as Zuko and the other Giovanni
    lifted Lilith's body onto a blanket, presumbely for destruction. Two
    of  Zuko's men carried her towards the back of the building, right past
    the  Slayers.  Fraser glanced down, sickened to see the face he remembered
    with such remorse and longing and loathing twisted in shocked agony and...death?
    It took him a moment to realise that Ray was lying on the floor. He ran
    to him, quickly. 
    
    "Ray!" 
    
    Ray's eyes flew open, falling on Fraser. His heart was pounding hard
    and he tried to speak again. All that would come out were strange gasps.
    He felt Fraser squeeze his hand, tightly. 
    
    "Can you help him?" Fraser demanded.
    
    "I will, Slayer.  Son of Rachel, see to these brave children." 
     
    "Aye, my lord," breathed Turnbull, wishing the Seeker would rescue him
    from  all the gore and dismembered bodies.  No such luck.  He raised
    Mina,  fighting the urge to hold her tight and assure himself she was
    well.   Instead he guided the trio of McGets towards the door. He made
    it almost across the room when he started to faint and the new vampires
    leaped to his aid, dragging him outside to wait for the ambulance.  
    Fraser was aware of Ray Vecchio's hand upon his shoulder as he knelt
    beside  Kowalski.  Ray was staring into his eyes, looking for the pacific
    calm that  he always expected and needed right now. He snaked his hand
    into Ray's squeezing it tightly. A brief smile touched Ray's lips.  
    "This will not hurt as much this time," assured Caine, offering his wrist.
    Ray opened his mouth, never tearing his eyes away from Fraser as he slowly
    drank the ancient's blood.  "You must still go to your human hospital,
    my  child.	You are sorely wounded, as is your love."  The ancient eyes
    twinkled.  "You have done well.  The mother will not strike again soon."
    
    Fraser gasped, tearing his eyes away from Ray's for a moment.  "She's
    not -  " 
     The old vampire shook his head.  "The blood of a Sabbat will not suffice
    to  eleminate one as ancient as she.  Fear not, Slayer, Prince Warfield's
    men  will make it difficult for her return.	She will need time to regain
    her  strength and purify herself." 
     
    Vecchio was angry at an opportunity squandered.  "Why didn't you just-"
    
    Caine watched Ray, knowing he needed more blood for his neck to heal.
    "My son stopped her for now.  The time has not yet come for us to meet."
    
    "Your son...why..." Fraser couldn't articulate what he wanted to know,
    too intent on keeping Ray's gaze locked. The ghoulite drank from Caine's
    wrist, the wound at his neck slowly healing. 
    
    Jay returned to let them know the ambulance was here and Turnbull was
    passing out on them again. 
    
    Caine smiled, "He has more of my blood than Lilith or Ellery's. A tad
    of sabbat, but that's easily rectified." He brushed hair out of Ray's
    face, affectionately. "If he were to rise tonight, he would not be son
    of Ellery." 
    
    Fraser squeezed Ray's hand, tightly, too weary to consider the implications.
    All he wanted was rest and Ray. 
    
    ***
    
    Revenge was had on all fronts, it seemed. 
     
    Zuko's men buried Victoria an a vault far removed from the city of Chicago.
    Deep in the woods, in a place only a handful knew about, they sealed
    her  into a tomb of cement and steel on land owned by the U.S. government
    and  forgotten by all.  Once it had been a bunker for storing ammunition
    during  World War II and the formidable structure was still buried deep
    and cold.  
    As winter gave way to spring, a band of pale and tireless people arrived
    at  the bunker.  They had been tracking the scent for months.  Now that
    they  arrived, they set about digging night and day until the sealed
    door was  revealed and broken.  Inside, she lay waiting and weak and
    the leader of the  clan smiled maniacally as he called for rope. 
     
    They had done to Lilith what Calhoun had done to Fraser. She hung on
    the  wall of the bunker, blood trickling down the wall. Calhoun, still
    recovering from his wounds at the jaws of the wolves, knelt in front
    of  her, watching with a crazed grin on his face.	Behind him, the surviving
    Sabbat tensed in anticipation of the oncoming frenzy. 
     
    With sudden speed, he was at her side, biting into her neck. He could
    feel  the pulse of her blood, and drained her quickly. It wasn't hard,
    not while  she was like this. 
     
    And he was Sabbat, so the blood was good. 
     
    Her eyes flickered, painfully and he could hear a word on the tip of
    her  tongue. "Autarkis..." 
    
    And she smiled. 
    
    TBC
    
    


End file.
